


Traditions Start Somewhere

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: McHanzo Week Day 7 Prompt: Holiday Season
Sometimes Hanzo has to stop and wonder at how he found himself here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Last fic for McHanzo Week! Sorry it's a day late--I actually had unexpected surgery yesterday morning and was not in the state of mind for writing, as you can imagine. Not exactly how I thought the holiday was going to go, I assure you! I hope you like it, and have a happy holiday season. Merry December! <3

“Soba, no!”

The quiet rustling of paper from under the tree pauses for one second, two, three, then starts up again.

“Soba, I said no!” Hanzo repeats, louder and more sternly. This time he turns from the cookies he had been busy sorting into boxes and glares over at where the crinkly sound is coming from. It takes him a moment to spot the little dragon face peeking out at him guiltily from around a gift bag. “Come on, out. Get out of there.”

With great reluctance Soba hops over the bag and scampers over to Hanzo, winding around his legs in apology. Hanzo does not buy it for a second; he knows as soon as he gets absorbed back in the kitchen his dragon will be right back to the tree.

“I need you to behave,” Hanzo says, leaning down to scritch behind Soba’s long ears and sparse feathers. “Jesse will be here soon and I want to be done before he gets here.”

Soba does another circuit of his legs in understanding, rubbing his face against Hanzo’s calf and eliciting a soft growl not unlike the purr of a cat if the cat was much, much bigger. Satisfied that the presents would remain safe for at least a little while, Hanzo heads back to his task, Soba trailing behind. Udon has been curled on top of the refrigerator for the past hour watching Hanzo go back and forth from counter to oven, enjoying the warmth generated from the appliance and taking playful swipes at Hanzo’s hair every time he opens the door to get out more eggs. He watches Hanzo go back to scooping out little balls of dough from the bowl to place them on the baking sheet, two inches apart in perfect staggered lines.

The thing is, Hanzo is not really much of a baker. If he is going to cook he prefers to make savory dishes, and even then he mainly sticks to things he knows he is good at that are not too complicated. It is not something that bothers him particularly much; there are some things he just is not meant to be good at, and exact salt-to-taste ratios will always be one of those things. In his opinion, Jesse is far better at anything kitchen-related with the exception of tea, and even then Hanzo cannot get southern iced sweet tea to Jesse’s liking. He is just grateful Jesse is there to pick up the culinary slack where he lacks.

So Hanzo is not much of a baker, but cookies have become his trademark of the holiday season. The cookie thing, as Hanzo has taken to calling it in his head, started his first Christmas with Overwatch. He was still finding his place in the group at the time, conversations not as stilted or hostile as they were when he first joined but he would not go so far as to say he was friends with the other agents. They did not spend that much time together outside of missions that first year. For some of them, Overwatch was something that existed only when necessary. They had other jobs, other responsibilities, other lives outside the work. Hanzo was not one of them.

There were a handful of other agents that spent their off-time at the Watchpoint or running small one-man missions to keep operations running: Oxton did her best to split her time between everyone and everything, including Overwatch. (He knew she had a partner somewhere she flew to meet regularly. Most of them would not meet Emily until Valentine’s Day of that next year, after which she became a regular fixture in Gibraltar.) Bastion had nowhere else to go. McCree was in the same boat, really, but Hanzo had not been interested in finding that out at the time.

But Winston was ever-present, and Hanzo had felt a pang of guilt at that. He could go freely about the world anywhere he wished, blending in with a crowd and disappearing easily. But Winston was singularly unique and recognizable. Winston’s whole life was Overwatch. The other agents were all he had.

Which may be why he actually put some effort into it when Winston announced that they were having a get-together three days before Christmas Day, just a little something so everyone could have some fun without worrying about the mission. Like a work party, he had enthused, looking around at the other agents with holiday cheer. No one had really matched his enthusiasm but they all agreed to attend, schedules permitting.

Watching Winston’s face fall as the meeting adjourned and people filed out, already talking about heading out next week and seeing each other sometime in the new year, lit a fire in Hanzo. He was not sure what he was going to do, but he would find some way to show his appreciation.

Good intentions aside, Hanzo still had no ideas the following week and the party was the next day. He found himself wandering the aisles of the closest big-box store just sending out prayers to any god or goddess that may be listening to point him in the right direction. He was skirting the lanes of the grocery section, looking the other way and thinking about maybe checking electronics again (but Winston has everything he could need at his fingertips, Athena would probably change the lock codes on his doors in retaliation) when he felt the curling warmth of the dragons surge under his skin. He turned, looking around, worried there may be a threat but Soba and Udon did not transmit anxiousness, only excitement. Taking a few steps away he felt the pull again, and turned to follow their lead down the aisle.

They were crazy, and he said so out loud, probably drawing the attention of anyone that might have been around since he was talking to himself. Udon and Soba had been with him his entire life. They knew he was no chef. But they were insistent, and the dragons had never led him astray before when he took the time to listen.

Peanut butter cookies were the obvious choice for Winston, and the directions on the package seemed easy enough. Only a few ingredients, just the way he likes it. Combine, mix, ball, bake. He can do that.

He made it all the way to the counter with his handful of ingredients before his mother’s propriety kicked in. Showing up at a Christmas party without proper gifts would definitely earn him one of her trademark disappointed frowns. And while at this age he now relishes in the idea of putting that look on his father’s face, his mother is another story entirely. So he fetched himself a shopping cart, debated long and hard about just how many packages of peanut butter cookies would feed all the agents, then cursed Soba and Udon all the way to the register for getting him into this.

Cooking that night had been a hectic mess that left him more high-strung than any mission. He was unaccustomed to cooking anything complicated in the Watchpoint kitchen (four ingredients in a recipe still counts as complicated when you have never made it before), the oven ran hotter than he expected, and there was only one baking sheet so he had to stop after each batch which wasted valuable baking time. The first batch was way too large and the second came out like tiny miniature cookies. It took him six batches to hone in on the sweet spot. There was nothing for the cookies to cool on except paper plates, and then he realized he had nothing to deliver the gifts in because he never really got that far in the planning process. Brown paper bags were the best he could come up with on short notice, but he took the time to write out each agent’s name carefully with a permanent marker.

The one thing that went right was that he did not burn a single cookie.

Hanzo had not allowed himself to feel nervous about his gifts until the next day when he was arranging all the bags in a box to carry downstairs. Only once he had everything gathered together and ready to be presented did it occur to him to think about what the others might think, or to question if this was even a worthy gift. Seeing those brown bags lined up in a row suddenly seemed so paltry, so insufficient. They certainly did not seem festive.

“Whatcha got there?” McCree asked, just happening to walk by as Hanzo was locking up his room. He had the box jammed between his torso and the wall to keep it from dropping.

At McCree’s question Hanzo had avoided his gaze but answered, “Presents for everyone. It is not much, but…” He had not known how to finish that sentence. McCree seemed to understand. Though he did give the contents of the box a doubtful look. “I did not have time for wrappings.”

“Oh! Well, we can fix that,” McCree replied, turning on his heel and heading back the way he came. “Wait right there!”

“Surely that is not necessary,” Hanzo tried to call after him, but McCree just threw up a hand for him to wait.

“Hold your horses, I’ll be right back!” He only had to wait a minute before McCree was trotting back, an opened plastic bag of store-bought bows in his hand. “I had plenty left over,” he says, digging out a bow and unsticking the protective paper from the tape side. “Hold steady for me.”

Hanzo held the box still while McCree placed a shiny colorful bow on the corner of each bag, right next to the name. “Where are your gifts?”

“Already down there. Just thought I’d come freshen up is all.” McCree’s clothes were a little nicer than his everyday gear, the jeans a darker blue, and the soft scent of cologne Hanzo had never smelled before. He goes to press a bow to a bag marked for Genji, then pauses and presses that one to the next bag instead. Fishing through the remaining choices he picks out one that is closest to lime green and sticks it in place. “Is that peanut butter I smell?”

“No hints,” Hanzo replied, allowing himself a small smile.

McCree laughed. “Well now I’m mighty interested. Smells good, whatever it is.”

“Thank you.” He watched as McCree puts a big red bow on his own bag, saving the best for last. It is not surprising.

“There. All prettied-up. You sure I can’t have mine now?”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Hanzo recited in response, the falling into step to make their way down to the party.

Less than half the agents stuck around for the party, which is more than Hanzo expected to see given their disinterest last week. Besides the expected group, Zenyatta and Genji agreed to stay an extra day before heading back to Nepal to visit the monastery. Same for Lena, who planned to fly out first thing the next morning to make it back to London. Satya had been the biggest surprise. As far as he could tell, Satya might have been the only one more reluctant to make friends than himself.

But even though the gathering was small, there was a warm cozy feeling to the whole thing that Hanzo appreciated more than a loud raucous party. Everyone made just a little more effort than normal, and after a while the strained conversation around the table eased until they were all swapping stories and laughing about one thing or another. Presents were small but appreciated, and when they got to Hanzo’s gifts Winston picked up on the scent of peanut butter immediately. Winston also picked up the archer in a great bear hug and swung him off his feet, leaving Hanzo off-balance and fixing his mussed hair once he was released. The others dug into their bags happily and McCree, who sat next to him at the table, plucked the bow off his bag and pressed it to the crown of Hanzo’s head. Hanzo tried half-heartedly to bat him away but ended up forgetting it was there until the next morning.

McCree’s gift had been giftcards for Starbucks (Hanzo learned quickly that no matter where a mission sent you a Starbucks was in close proximity), and a bottle of bourbon to share with the team. And as a special gift to Winston, the promise to take monitor duty the next morning so Winston could have a well-deserved morning to sleep to himself. The cowboy only indulged in a single glass that he shared in toast, smiling warmly at Hanzo as they clinked glasses and sipped the expensive alcohol.

Hanzo does not believe in love at first sight, or soulmates, or making rash decisions when it comes to matters of the heart. Life is more complicated than fanciful notions like that. But he knows some things changed that night. The others stopped being just work associates that sometimes saved each other from dying. Maybe not quite friends, but a step closer. And McCree stopped being just Agent McCree. It was a step closer.

By the next Christmas he was no longer McCree but Jesse. He still never made any rash decisions but with Jesse he never needed to. For once in his life something he wanted had not been an impossible uphill battle; when they finally allowed themselves the chance, he and Jesse had fallen together as naturally as breathing. Three years on, Jesse has upgraded from coworker to friend to boyfriend, and now to fiancé. This time next year it will be husband.

The thought still makes Hanzo grin uncontrollably, no matter the location or how many witnesses.

It is not the only thing that has changed around this time of year. The now-annual party has been permanently moved to the night before Christmas Eve and no one even considers missing the event. Gifts are heartfelt and unique, planned months in advance in some cases. And while Hanzo gets proper gifts for everyone, they have all come to expect his homemade cookies. They were such a hit that first year, and no one really listened when he insisted it was just cookie mix from a box. If that is what they want, then that is what they get.

So, Hanzo makes cookies. He has gotten a lot better at it and streamlined the process to be a lot more efficient, and now that he and Jesse share one of the suites they even have their own kitchen so he can have the space to himself. Instead of making each person a small bag of peanut butter cookies, he now makes a huge box filled with a dozen different varieties. He experiments with new flavors every year. As Jesse loves to tease, he is a bit of a perfectionist about it now.

Though, the all-day cooking is still hard on his back. He has been at it since early that morning, pacing back and forth in the kitchen to keep everything moving along. The work is well worth the result. His last batch is ready for the oven and ahead of schedule, which means once he gets everything divided up and all the boxes taped shut he can sit back and relax with his fiancé. Whenever he finally shows up.

Just as he is opening the oven to put in the last baking-sheet-full, Udon perks his head up in alert. Then he leaps down to the floor with a loud thump and he and Soba scramble toward the door to the suite, chirping loud and happy. Hanzo smiles as he hears spurs followed by his fiancé’s deep laughter. “Whoa there! Howdy, howdy, howdy, calm down now, let me in! Let me in, you silly dragons, let me in!”

Closing the oven, Hanzo tosses the mitt onto the counter intending to go out and greet Jesse. “I was wondering if we would need send out a search party--”

“Don’t you come in here!”

Hanzo halts immediately, frowning at the wall and counter that separates himself from the living room and his boyfriend. “What? Why?”

There is the distinct sound of paper and plastic bags rustling together quickly making their way out of the living room and down the hall toward their bedroom. “They aren’t wrapped yet, no looking! Stay there, I’ll tell you when you can come out!”

“I thought we agreed on a limit, Jesse,” Hanzo calls out.

Jesse’s voice is muffled but he replies. “Yeah, well, you should have known better to think I’d stick to that...”

Hanzo grins a little to himself and shakes his head. It is not like he can argue with Jesse on this one, seeing as he already blew through their promised gift budget last week. It is the same every year; the pretense of being fiscally responsible getting overwhelmed by wanting to spoil their partner. And next year they will talk about how they should just keep things small and do it all over again. 

He is tempted to follow Jesse down the hall anyway just to give him a hard time about it, but he still needs to clean up the kitchen. “Did you find anything for Morrison?” he calls instead, putting the dirty mixing bowl into the sink for washing.

“Yeah! A bunch of golf shit, you know, he goes through balls and tees so fast. They had these lounge pants with this obnoxious golf flag pattern on it I picked up, too. And…” McCree comes back down the hall and sticks his head and arm around the doorway, holding up a pair of mugs. One is white with black lettering proclaiming  _ Best Dad _ and the other black with white lettering labeled  _ Worst Dad.  _ “What do you think? I figure they can fight over it every morning.”

“I think you’re a little trouble maker, but they will love them,” Hanzo replies. He has a feeling Reyes will go out of his way to acquire the Best Dad mug every morning, just to spite Morrison.

It has been an interesting experience, getting to know the man he initially saw as an enemy. The death of Reaper and the rehabilitation of Gabriel Reyes was one of the few stressful aspects of his relationship with Jesse. Not because Hanzo thought it impossible--that was a fight Jesse waged with many of the other agents and the world at large--but because of the horrible strain it put on his partner. Jesse wanted Gabriel back in his life so badly, but he could not wave a magic wand and repair all the damage overnight. It involved more physical and mental therapy than most of Overwatch has ever needed combined. Sometimes it was all they could do to get through a day, trying to make things right again. But Hanzo stuck with Jesse and Jesse supported the only father figure he had ever known, and time and patience did the rest.

What really shocked Hanzo was finding out Morrison and Reyes were never together like he and many of the others had assumed for so long. Friends, yes, enemies, absolutely. Lovers only came recently when decades of hesitance, longing, and regret finally found a voice. Hanzo thinks it is weird how he and Jesse have been together longer than these two old me, especially since they seem to be stuck perpetually in the honeymoon phase despite knowing each other literally more than half their lives. Jesse is still getting used to the idea, but occasionally butting heads with Morrison is worth his father being happy.

Hanzo supposes that giving Morrison dad status, even if it is as worst dad, is still better than nothing. Jesse sets the mugs aside and sidles up behind Hanzo, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing up against him from chest to knees. “Did I miss the cookie baking?”

“Last batch is in the oven.”

“Sorry, darlin’, time got away from me.” He noses at the soft skin behind Hanzo’s ear, the short fuzz of his undercut. “I brought dinner.”

“Then you are forgiven,” Hanzo smiles, tipping his head back for a kiss. “I am famished.”

“You sit down, baby, I’ll take care of everything.”

The do not have a proper dining room, just a modular fold-out table with matching chairs off the side of the kitchen. Perfect for their small suite and better than their old rooms. Small and intimate. Hanzo sits there while Jesse gathers plates from the kitchen and fills their dishes with pasta from one of Hanzo’s favorite local eateries. He brings it out as well as a bottle and two glasses of wine.

“Are we celebrating?” Hanzo asks, raising an eyebrow and taking the glasses so Jesse can pop the cork.

“Maybe I’m just feeling romantic,” Jesse replies, pouring a healthy amount into each glass. “I was out looking at engagement rings.”

Hanzo quirks an eyebrow, bemused as he takes the glass from Jesse’s fingers. He thumbs at the ring on his own finger. “Planning on proposing to one of your other boyfriends?”

“Cute,” Jesse chuckles, sitting down across from Hanzo. “No, darlin’, you are more than enough for me. This was with Jack.”

“What?!” Hanzo gasps, nearly spitting his sip of wine back into the glass. “He is going to propose?”

“That’s the plan, it seems. He, ah…” Jesse pauses to laugh, picking up his own glass to take a large drink. “He wanted my blessin’, I think.”

Hanzo gapes at him. “Are you serious? Oh my...wow. I was not expecting that.”

“Neither was I. Part of me is like, they ain’t even been datin’ a year, you know? But I don’t think anyone can judge how that relationship works. They’re more complicated than anythin’ I know.” He shrugs, tipping his glass toward Hanzo. “Told him as long as he don’t go blowin’ up any international organizations if things go pear-shaped, then it’d be just fine by me. And then we went ring shoppin’, cause that man ain’t got no taste.”

“And you do?” Hanzo teases.

“I didn’t hear you complainin’,” he Jesse drawls.

Hanzo holds his left hand up between them. The light plays over the gentle curve of silver, a wave around his finger not unlike the coils of a dragon. Three small sapphires are inlaid in the metal with two diamonds between. He sighs happily. “Perhaps you have your areas of expertise,” he allows.

Jesse preens a little at that and they dig in, conversation flowing easily. Today was their last-minute Christmas shopping and Jesse fills him in on everything he picked up, assuring Hanzo he got everything on their list and a few other things besides. Hanzo talks about the baking this year and how he already has plans for some flavors he would like to try next year if he remembers to make a note of it. All the while their feet are pressed together under the table and Udon and Soba go from one set of knees to the other trying to weasel bites of pasta from the pair.

“Soba’s been under the tree all day,” Hanzo says as Jesse refills his glass, the remains of dinner between them.

“Has he?” Setting down the bottle Jesse leans over to look down at Soba, who chips at him in response. “Well, Christmas is pretty soon…I was thinking about letting them have one present early, but not if they ain’t been behaving…”

This gets a flurry of chirps and squeaks in response from both dragons, Soba trying to hop his way up into Jesse’s lap. Hanzo can hardly hide his amusement but manages to pull a serious face. “I suppose one.”

“And I know just the one,” Jesse grins. “In fact, I think we should surprise Hanzo with it.”

That gets him a quizzical look. “You got them something else?” he asks. Jesse had to wrap all the dragon’s presents for him since they are always with Hanzo, having a secret is hardly feasible. Before he started dating Jesse, it had never even occurred to Hanzo to get them presents. They seemed equally as confused when McCree showed up that first Christmas they dated with two little wrapped bags with Udon and Soba’s names on the tags. The little fish treats were more than enough to turn them around on the idea.

“Special made, just for them,” Jesse says enigmatically, getting to his feet. “You just put everything in the sink and I’ll wash up later. C’mon, noodle-biscuits, let’s go surprise Hanners here.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hanzo complains but Jesse just laughs and ushers the dragons back to the bedroom.

Hanzo has enough time to take everything to the sink and rinse out a few things, but leaves the rest for Jesse to clean later. He figures he has done enough in the kitchen for one day. Taking his wine glass to their modest living room, he curls his feet underneath him as he sits on their couch, the tree by his side. As much as he has been running around today, he has not had much time to admire it.

A labor of love that he and Jesse started working on their first year together, Hanzo loves this tree. A mix of clear white lights like his mother had used when he was young and bright, multicolor strands that Jesse always wanted but could never afford. A set of gold and silver glass ball ornaments, another set of red, green, and blue with snowflakes painted on each side. Delicate fake icicles and snowflakes, some covered with a sheen of fine glitter. Wooden ornaments that took Jesse six months to track down from a series of dollar stores just so he could get all the ones from the set. A fuzzy llama from their mission in Peru. A little plastic horseshoe with a red bow on top. Tiny jingle bells hung along gold tinsel. A dried okra santa that shakes like a maraca with the seeds inside. A cheesy plastic ball with a picture of the two of them framed on one side. A star on the top with lights all around it that flick on and off.

He never understood the appeal of the Christmas tree until he shared one with Jesse. If he allows himself to think about it too hard it still chokes him up. One of the few things Jesse does not tease him about; after all, the other man gets just as emotional about it. Two sentimental fools, they are.

There is a bit of ruckus down the hall and Hanzo is mildly worried when a few curses drift from their bedroom, but eventually the door opens. “You ready out there, Han?”

“For what?” he calls back, setting his wine glass safely aside.

Suddenly the dragons come leaping down the hall, clawed feet tapping on the wood floor toward the living room. In a blur they are before him, hopping all over the place and scrambling up into his lap. Their excitement makes it hard for Hanzo to focus on what he is seeing, and he has to grab Soba up under his forearms and lift him up so he will stop wiggling. “Oh my Gods,” Hanzo murmurs, taking them in.

Soba has on a Christmas sweater. Alternating bands of knitted white and red in a southwestern pattern. He can mostly see stylized poinsettia flowers and pine trees and, yes, also cactus. It has a bunched up layered collar and elastic sleeve ends, coming about midway down his long lanky body. Udon’s sweater is the same pattern in white and green. They both have fuzzy reindeer antlers on headbands tucked behind their feathered ears. “Oh my Gods,” Hanzo says again, laughter bubbling out of him. “You look  _ adorable _ !”

Jesse, who has been standing back anxiously awaiting Hanzo’s reaction, beams at the praise. “Wasn’t sure if you’d like ‘em or not, but Zarya’s mama said she’d knitted more than a few for people and dogs over the years, surely a few dragons wouldn’t be too hard. Just got them in today. You really like ‘em?”

“I love it,” Hanzo grins, setting Soba down and giving Udon a little attention. “You both look so good! You can show them off at the party tomorrow.”

Udon chirps happily at that and nuzzles at Hanzo’s throat, then topples down to the ground. Soba follows suit and the run around the room adjusting to the stretch of their new clothing.

“Y’all don’t get those dirty, now,” Jesse says, sighing and collapsing down next to Hanzo with an arm around his lover. “She made one for Egg while she was at it. They’ll be the cutest dragons at the party.”

“Was this your idea?” Hanzo asks, handing Jesse his glass.

“I do have good ones on occasion,” he smirks.

Hanzo hums, pressing his body into the curve of Jesse’s side. “They’ll want a hundred more, now.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing to spoil ‘em a little. They do enough for us in return.”

“We spoil them plenty,” Hanzo counters. “Besides, they are ancient and ageless. They’re the ones indulging us.”

“Well...as long as everyone’s happy then,” Jesse reasons, making Hanzo laugh and look up at him for a long moment. “What?” he asks at the intent look.

“We are,” Hanzo says. Like it has just occurred to him. “We are happy.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow and runs fingers through Hanzo’s hair. “You sound surprised.”

“I guess I have never really thought…” He pauses, thinking through his words. “For so long happiness felt like something other people could have, and was not for me. Since coming to Gibraltar, I thought maybe...I have had moments of happiness, with my brother and my friends. But I never realized...I am happy.”

“Snuck up on you, didn’t it?” Jesse asks knowingly.

He squeezes Jesse’s knee and looks up at him again. “It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

“Ain’t nothin’ silly about it.” He takes both their glasses and sets them aside, then draws Hanzo into the circle of his arms. Hanzo goes willingly until he is draped across Jesse’s chest. “Y’know when you’re kids people tell all them stories that end in happily ever after. Always thought it was a load of bull. Then you came strollin’ up and--”

“We did not get along,” Hanzo recalls before Jesse can start spinning a fairy tale of his own.

“We got there, eventually,” Jesse laughs, fading at the end. “I wasn’t happy, either. Never thought we’d end up here.” After a moment, he shifts gears. “When did you decide you were interested?”

“In you?” he asks, getting a spank for that one that makes Hanzo giggle. “There was not one moment,” Hanzo reasons, though his mind goes back to his thoughts on that first Christmas. “The cookies, maybe. When you stopped to help me put bows on. Later that night when we drank together. It made me wonder.”

Jesse grins. “Really? That wasn’t nothin’, though. I was tryin’ to impress you for weeks before then.”

“You were not!” Hanzo laughs, then frowns. “Were you?”

“You’re killin’ my pride here, darlin’.”

He wiggles up Jesse’s torso to press a kiss to his lips, smiling against them. “I was not ready,” he says, which is the truth. He was also pretty dense when it came to Jesse’s affections, at least at first. His mind had been occupied with his own drama, too distracted to see what was waiting for him. “When did you first notice, then?”

Jesse hems on this one, turning his face away. “You’re goin’ to think I’m shallow.”

Interesting. “Tell me, or I will think even worse.”

That gets him a huff, but Jesse answers. “That time you cut your hair.”

“What?” he laughs.

Jesse brings a hand up to stroke over the short undercut, cupping the back of Hanzo’s skull in his broad palm. “You looked attractive before, don’t get me wrong. But when you let Genji cut your hair and you came down to dinner that night, and everyone was complimentin’ you and I was just sittin’ there starin’, you had this look on your face. This quiet little pleased smile, and the faintest blush, right here.” He brushes the knuckles of his prosthetic over Hanzo’s cheekbone where that same blush is coming to the surface. “Knew then I was a goner.”

“But that was months before--” Hanzo bites his lip, blush growing dark with realization. “Jesse,” he whines, pressing his face into Jesse’s chest which is rumbling with laughter.

“Plus you shaved like ten years off gettin’ rid of those cute little wings you had--”

_ “Jesse!”  _ he sits back enough to whack his fiancé in the arm, but Jesse wraps him up and flips them over to use his bulk to hold Hanzo down. He squeals as Jesse kisses down his exposed neck and tickles the skin with his scruffy beard. “Enough! Enough!”

Jesse continues to lay over him but eases up, Hanzo’s arms slinking around his neck to bring him down for a proper kiss. They stay gentle and languid, savoring the feel of lips on lips, tongue against tongue, the warmth between them. It could easily get heated, if they allowed, but it has been a long day for both of them. This, right here, feels perfect.

It is Jesse who ends the soft kisses to lean his head back, just enough to speak. “Hanzo, darlin’, you know I love you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, nuzzling Jesse’s face.

“And I’d love to show you just how much,” he continues.

Hanzo likes the sound of that. Maybe hot and heavy is on the menu tonight. His fingers slide down to the hem of Jesse’s shirt and tease the skin underneath. “But?”

“But,” Jesse drawls slowly, “Your dragons are layin’ on my back.”

From over his shoulder peek two little dragon heads, Soba’s quirked to the side like a curious dog.

Hanzo bursts out laughing. Yes, this is what happiness feels like.


End file.
